


moonlight (through the feathers of your wings)

by sqidervbck



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wings, Angst, Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Fluff, Gen, Hurt Tim Drake, Hurt/Comfort, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake-centric, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-17
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:22:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26509702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sqidervbck/pseuds/sqidervbck
Summary: Timothy Jackson Drake, like a third of the population, was born with wings.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Tim Drake & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd
Comments: 34
Kudos: 487





	1. anatomy of timothy drake

**Author's Note:**

> another wingfic? honestly not sorry at all. this is totally self-indulgent and is basically just because theres not enough tim-centric wingfics out there and im HUNGRY. so yeah, please enjoy :)
> 
> also if you were wondering the birds i got for inspiration for the batboys...  
> dick: hyacinth macaw  
> jason: eastern bluebird (with grey instead of blue)  
> tim: wallcreeper  
> damian: asian glossy starling

Timothy Jackson Drake, like a third of the population, was born with wings.

This was much to the displeasure of his parents, who were both wingless and saw those with wings as less than. Janet had huffed, turning her nose up at the baby which was presented to her after numerous hours of a fairly painless labour. Little Timothy had two small knobs between his shoulder blades which promised to grow into fully fledged wings.

Jack had frowned, and asked the doctor if he was  _ absolutely sure _ that it meant Timothy was going to be winged.

The doctor had been slightly confused, since most parents were proud of having winged children, especially if they didn’t have them themselves.

Throughout his childhood, Tim was made to feel ashamed of his wings.

They quickly grew into beautiful black and red wings, with white speckled ends. He secretly loved them, despite never being allowed to feel that way.

Most of the time he kept them concealed, despite the effort and pain. He thought the discomfort and painful ache in his wings was worth having them invisible to the world. His parents seemed to agree.

That was only when they were at home though, since the sight of them often meant they would ignore him.

As soon as Janet and Jack Drake were away on their business trips, Tim was running through the halls with his wings flared. The feathers sung in pleasure at  _ finally _ being free, and not constricted in their invisible form.

Tim always felt better when he didn’t need to keep his wings concealed. He slept more. He wasn’t as emotionally drained from focusing on the invisibility. He felt  _ free _ .

He remembered the first time he’d met Bruce Wayne, and how he had to hold himself back from running up to the man and touching his pitch black wings. (They just looked so  _ soft _ , and Tim had never felt so proud to have wings).

He thought if Bruce Wayne could show off his grand wings, why couldn’t Tim?

Tim had grinned up at the man, blinking with wide eyes. “I have wings too,” he’d explained.

Mr Wayne had looked surprised, looking from the obvious  _ lack _ of wings on Tim’s back to his parents’ horrified faces. Janet had gripped Timothy’s shoulders in an instant, her nails digging into his skin.

“Silly boy, he only wishes he does!” she had laughed, looking so utterly  _ fake _ .

But Mr Wayne had chuckled back warmly, seemingly believing the lie. Tim felt his heart drop, as the bubbling joy in his belly simmered out of existence.

He was five when he went to see the Flying Graysons perform. Tim had gaped at the royal blue wings on the boy’s ( _ “Call me Dick!” _ ) back. The underside of his feathers were a paler blue than the outside, which were a dark, bold, midnight blue. He had never felt so jealous of the colour of another person’s wings.

Tim remembered how the boy’s blue wings had curled around himself like huge arms when his parents fell to the floor. He remembered how the royal blue colour had dulled slightly.

He was nine when he found out who Batman and Robin was.

He remembered recognising the same aerial tricks from the Flying Graysons’ performance. He remembered gasping when he saw a patch of royal blue hidden amongst the sea of Robin’s bright red feathers.

_ Paint _ , Tim had realised.  _ The red was just feather paint _ .

One year later, when Tim was 10, Robin changed ownership.

He knew immediately when Robin came, fists out, into battle, that he wasn’t Dick Grayson. The red feathers were the same, of course (courtesy of the paint), but it wasn’t  _ Dick Grayson _ . Tim just  _ knew _ . They weren’t as big or grand as Dick’s wings, and didn’t arch as high.

His theory was proved when news came out about Bruce Wayne taking in a new ward; Jason Todd.

Jason had beautiful, rust-coloured wings with cool grey primaries which reflected like metal in the light. The complimentary colours worked together so well that Tim wished  _ his _ wings looked like that. 

The older boy was a kid from Gotham’s streets, with a snarky attitude and fiery temper. Tim didn’t know why, but it made the boy all the more interesting to him.

And then Jason died.

And things spiralled from there.

Tim demanded Bruce make him Robin when he was 12. He’d told him everything he knew about Batman and Robin’s identity.

Bruce had looked at the lack of wings on Tim’s back (because concealing them had become a habit of his) and told him that Robin had wings. Tim had replied by saying basically everyone in Gotham knew that there was more than one Robin, so seeing no wings wouldn’t be a surprise.

Batman had said no, unsurprisingly, and so Tim confronted Dick Grayson. The whole ordeal resulted in Dick coming back to Gotham for a bit as Nightwing, and Tim being trained to become Robin.

(Eventually they compromised on a wing-like cape, which, while not being the real deal, looked fairly believable from a distance.

Part of Tim wanted to just tell Bruce that he actually had wings, but his mother’s voice reminded him that nobody could ever know that Timothy Drake wasn’t wingless.)

After a few years of being Robin and concealing his wings from everyone, his parents died. He remembered looking in the mirror to check to see how much his wings had faded, only to realise they hadn’t changed at all.

That was… weird. Wings were known to fade or dull after traumatic events or the loss of a loved one. Tim’s should have changed, right? But they hadn’t, and it only reestablished the point that nobody could find out about them. (Nobody could know that he wasn’t largely impacted by his parents’ deaths).

And then the Red Hood came along, targeting Tim for reasons unknown. 

He remembered being pinned down in Titans’ Tower, Hood gripping his cape and  _ pulling _ . The fake wings had torn off easily, and Hood had scoffed.

All Tim could think was that Hood’s helmet was the same colour as Robin’s feather paint.

“He couldn’t even replace me with some actual wings?” was snarled into his face. Tim tried not to shake. “You’re just a fucking Pretender. A Replacement.”

Tim remembered being frozen in shock at the revelation that the Red Hood was Jason Todd. He then recalled his confusion as he tried to match up the wings. Hood’s wings were a darker rusty red, with black ends mixed with dark greys. They were larger too, arching almost as high as Dick’s. They were vastly different from the vibrant tan and pale cool grey that Tim knew to belong to Jason Todd.

And then shit happened, and Damian showed up, and Bruce died, and Dick took Robin from him. His life fell apart before his very eyes.

His wings darkened during his trip to get back Bruce. The once vibrant, robin red had turned to a blood-like crimson. It was fitting in a way.

Ra’s had grinned cunningly when he told Tim that he knew his secret. Tim’s control of his concealment had slipped after losing his spleen, and Ra’s had seen his wings in all their red and black glory.

“Why are you so afraid of them knowing?” Ra’s had asked.

Tim still didn’t have an answer to that.

And then he had found Bruce, blown up the League of Assassins’ base and returned to a not so warm welcome. Dick hadn’t even apologised for threatening to put him into Arkham. And Damian still wore  _ his uniform _ .

Damian, with his dark monochrome feathers which looked green from one angle and teal from another. They were almost black, but reflected so vibrantly sometimes that they matched the green of his uniform. Tim hated how fucking  _ jealous _ he had felt when he first saw them.

“The only Robin without wings,” Damian had sneered. “How pathetic.”

_ You’re wrong! _ Tim wanted to say.  _ I  _ **_do_ ** _ have wings! _

But Timothy Drake was wingless, he had to remind himself.

Nothing really felt the same after Bruce’s supposed ‘death’. 

Tim couldn’t trust his oldest brother anymore, he occasionally talked to Jason but their relationship was still a bit tense, and Damian was just never going to cooperate. Bruce hadn’t even really made an effort to keep him in the family, hadn’t really made a fuss when Tim pulled away from their movie nights and joined patrols.

The last time Tim remembered getting hugged by Bruce was when Tim had pulled him back from the time stream. Bruce had raised his grand, black wings before enveloping Tim in them. Tim had never felt so safe before.

But obviously all good things must come to an end, and Bruce had left him to greet his other sons. His winged sons. His better sons.


	2. robin red primaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dick and jay find out

Tim was fucking  _ exhausted _ .

He was on his seventy-sixth hour of being awake and he blamed it  _ completely _ on the group of aliens who had decided to invade Earth exactly when Tim wasn’t up to dealing with them. He’d had Kon drop him off at his apartment in Gotham, the Kryptonian staying for a moment to make sure he wasn’t going to drop dead, before Tim was alone again.

Red wiggled out of his uniform lazily, shimmying the kevlar-latex mix off his hips to reveal the sinewy body underneath. He basically collapsed onto his bed, not bothered to treat the cuts and bruises he had gained while battling off the alien invaders. All in all, he wasn’t in too bad condition.

The space between his shoulder blades ached, and Tim whined at pain. Flipping onto his stomach, he released his concentration on concealing his wings. The black and red feathers folded outwards shakily, becoming visible to the human eye. His wings quivered at the strain, and slowly stretched out to fan across the entirety of his mattress in all their stunning glory.

Tim sighed in satisfaction at  _ finally _ having them relaxed after seventy six fucking hours. It wasn’t the longest he’d had them concealed (since Tim had pretty much perfected the art of concealing his wings while asleep), but it was still a while.

Running on seventy six hours of wide eyes and pure caffeine, falling asleep came fairly easily to him.

━━━━━━━━

“Dickwing, I  _ told _ ya’ to just wait a damn second—” Jason scolded,  _ ahh _ -ing when the apartment security suddenly turned green. “See? Patience.”

Dick glared at him for a moment before pushing his door open slowly, careful not to make the intruder aware of their presence. He’d gotten the alert towards the end of patrol, telling him that someone had broken into one of their safehouses. 

Jason nudged his chin towards the hallway silently, hand at his holster. The older vigilante nodded and they began moving down the hallway in a synchronised movement that spoke of  _ experience _ and  _ trust _ . They checked each room, Jason aiming his gun through every door, but each were empty.

Then there was Dick and Jay’s room. 

N pressed his ear to the door to see if he could hear anything, before sending a pointed look to Jason and shouldering through the door. He raised his escrima sticks head-high, Hood entering the room behind him when his eyes found the intruder who was—

_ Sleeping in their bed? _

(Which was more than just slightly disturbing but—)

The two vigilantes shared a look, as they stepped forward. 

The intruder’s large black and red wings were fanned out across the mattress, dangling off either side. The wings twitched, even as the person slept. And the guy was… naked? He only wore a pair of boxers, and when Dick looked around to see where the fuck the rest of his clothes were, he only found an oddly familiar pile of red and black kevlar.

Wait a second…

“Tim?” Dick exclaimed.

Both of them dropped their weapons as the intruder groaned, turning in his sleep. When the figure faced them, Dick gasped as his question was answered. It  _ was _ Tim. But— how?

“Did I bump my head without knowing or are those  _ wings _ ?” Jason questioned, his train of thought following the same track as Dick. Jason pulled off his helmet and domino, Dick following suit.

“He…” Dick trailed off. “He’s wingless. He’s— he has  _ wings _ ? What the fuck—”

“God, would you shut up?” Tim groaned from the bed, his large wings pulling in to curl around himself in a long, elegant swoop. 

Then the boy blinked. And then he froze. 

“Oh  _ shit _ ,” he cursed, already trying to conceal his wings (mind going  _ abort, abort, abort— _ because this  _ wasn’t the plan _ ).

“Yeah,  _ oh shit _ , Replacement,” said Jason with a raise of his brow. “What the fuck are those?”

_ Those _ had already turned invisible, since Tim was practically an expert at concealing his wings in record speed. He blinked.

“What are what?” he replied dumbly.

Dick rolled his eyes, his own royal blue wings ruffling behind him. “Stop concealing them, we already saw. Which— what the  _ hell _ , Tim?”

Tim groaned, releasing the concealment. His red and black wings appeared again, expanding as Tim shook them behind himself. They were large, and had a higher arch than Jason’s. Despite their beauty, they clearly hadn’t been preened in a while and they were tangled slightly from such long periods of concealment. Still, Dick and Jason stared at them in awe.

“You weren’t supposed to find out this way…” Tim complained, stuffing his face into the pillow.

Dick raised his brow. “Then when  _ were _ we supposed to find out? How long were you planning to keep this a secret?”

“Forever?” Tim replied dryly. Then he paused. “Wait— why are you even here? How did you get in?”

“This is our safehouse, kiddo,” Jason answered. “What, you thought you were at your place?”

Tim stared at them for a moment before whining. “Ughhhh, Kooooon.”

Dick and Jason shared a look.

Then the oldest brother came to sit behind Tim on his bed, hands already reaching out to touch the wings. The feathers were soft, but sleeker than Dick’s own ones. They were shiny, but not as reflective as Jason’s or Damian’s. They were strong, but not as sharp as Bruce’s were. 

Tim flinched when his wings were touched, unused to the treatment. He couldn’t remember the last time someone else had touched his wings. Maybe Ra’s? But before Ra’s it was… it was  _ who _ ? His parents never touched them, he only ever had one doctor's appointment to make sure they were growing correctly, and nobody else even knew they existed.

And it was  _ Dick _ who was touching his wings. He hadn’t spoken to N out of the masks in about seven months. By this point, Tim had sort of gotten the message that they didn’t mind his absence.

Dick dragged his thumb across one of the crimson feathers, eyes wide in awe. He then laughed. “These are almost the same colour as the Robin wings.”

Tim swallowed thickly, trying not to pull his wings away from his older brother. “They used to be the same shade.”

The pair of older vigilantes paused at the news. “Yer parents?” Jason asked.

Tim shook his head.

“... it wasn’t me, was it?” inquired Jason, horrified at the thought that he’d been the cause of a fade in feather colour. (Because that was fucked up on  _ so many levels _ , and Hood didn’t need another reason to hate himself).

Tim shook his head again. “No it happened when I was… off getting Bruce back.”

“Shit,” Jason exhaled. 

Dick was just frozen. “When Damian got Robin?”

Tim tried not to shout, tried not to cry. “Yes, Dick. When you took Robin from me and handed it off like it meant  _ nothing _ to me.”

“Wait what?” Jason exclaimed, head spinning at this new news. “Took? I thought Tim gave up Robin.”

Dick sighed. “I had to give Damian Robin. Tim was my  _ equal _ , I couldn’t run around with him as my sidekick.”

“That don’t give ya the right to  _ take _ it from him!”

“I didn’t know what to do, okay, Jay!” Dick cried. Nobody knew how difficult it had been to take on the cowl and raise Damian all by himself. “I’m sorry, Tim, really but—”

“But you don’t regret it,” Tim completed, feeling empty all of a sudden. “It’s whatever.”

“No, it ain’t  _ whatever _ ,” Jason snapped. “Dick faded yer fucking feathers!”

Tim sighed, gently drawing his wings away from his oldest brother. Dick tried not to frown. “It wasn’t just that. Losing my spleen probably had something to do with it, and how my anxiety had a fucking  _ field day _ with everything going on. It wasn’t… the best times.”

There was a lot unsaid there.

“I’m going to ignore what you just told us about your spleen, because that’s a whole other day we need to discuss that,” said Dick, getting up from the bed with his head whirling slightly.

He moved towards the door. “Let’s get something to eat while we talk, yeah?”

Tim was exhausted, and his eyes were already closing again, but he got out of the bed anyway. They ended up ordering Thai (because Jason was going to scream if he had to eat anymore shitty Chinese takeout or pizza), which left them in an oddly domestic atmosphere. 

Tim felt slightly weird as he sat on the kitchen island stool, a tub of Pad Thai in his hands. Jason sat two stools down, with a plate of green curry and rice, and Dick stood on the other side of the island with an odd assortment of dishes. Tim felt tempted to steal some of the Massaman curry, but didn’t want to enter that level of familiarity so soon.

“So,” Tim began when they were all fairly satisfied with their hunger. “What do you want to know?”

“Why did you hide it from us?” Dick asked immediately, not bothering to beat around the bush for once in his damn life.

“My parents were both wingless and basically saw winged people as inferior. So when they had me and the doctor pointed at the two knobs on my back they kind of just… ignore their existence? Nobody was allowed to know, except for one doctor who gave me a checkup when I was like four. They didn’t want everyone to know that the Drake heir was a basic animal.”

Jason frowned. “So, what… they made ya conceal them wheneva’ ya went out?”

Tim shrugged, taking a bite of his Thai. “I concealed them around mum and dad too. The only time I had them out was when I was alone.”

Dick gaped. “But— that would be exhausting.”

“Mhm,” Tim hummed. “Why do you think I look half dead all the time.”

“I thought ya just never slept,” Jason scoffed.

Red gave him a deadpan look.

“So all the time as Robin and then Red Robin… you were fighting while your wings were concealed?” Dick asked incredulously. Tim nodded simply. “That’s so much effort though!”

Tim gave him a blank stare. “Anything for the mission, right?”

Jason chuffed out a cold laugh. “That’s fucked up, babybird.”

“Is there anyone we know who  _ isn’t _ fucked up?” Tim quirked an amused brow.

“Touche.”

They fell into a silence which toed the line between comfortable and awkward for a few minutes while they finished their food. Dick decided he couldn’t take the quiet of the safehouse any longer, and spoke up again. 

“They’re really pretty, Timmy,” he smiled. “It’s a shame you felt the need to hide them.”

Tim tried not to blush (and failed terribly) at the compliment. He ducked his head in embarrassment, his wings tucking in nervously behind him. Why did this pair have to be out here making him all flustered?

“Thanks, man.”

Jason chuffed. “The only Robin with actual red in yer wings, and ya couldn’t even show them off.”

Tim chuckled lightly, and Dick smiled at the sight. “Bruce would have said they were  _ too identifiable _ .”

“Yer right, babybird. He fucking would.”

“So who else knows?” Dick asked, suddenly turning serious again.

Jason rolled his eyes at the change, annoyed that the small amount of comfortable banter they had begun was ruined.  _ Like, seriously, Dickiebird. _

Tim shrugged nonchalantly. “My parents, who are dead. And then Ra’s. Pru as well.”

Dick blinked. “You’re telling me a thousand year old megalomaniac and his assassin are the only people who know about this?  _ Those  _ are the people you told?”

“I lost control over the concealment when I lost my spleen. Something about severe physical trauma meaning my brain couldn’t multitask as well. Ra’s found out, and then Pru knew too,” Tim explained, his voice half bored. He sighed. “Trust me, if it was up to me then nobody would know.  _ Nobody _ .”

And Jay and Dick shared a look at that (because,  _ really _ , dude?).

“Well we gotta tell B,” Jason shrugged after a moment.

And  _ that _ was a big no no.

“What?” Tim exclaimed, his eyes going wide. “No,  _ no, no, no _ — you can’t tell B!”

“Why not?”

“Because he’ll never trust me after he finds out I’ve been keeping this a secret!” said Tim, his wings tensing behind him. “He’ll take away my cape!”

Jason raised a brow. “Yeah, he’ll definitely take yer cape.”

And Tim faltered at that, his own fears being confirmed. “W-what?”

Jay and Dick shared a look. “Well, why would you have a cape when you have your wings?” the older vigilante questioned.

“Woah, calm down. I’m not gonna have my wings out as Red.”

“Why not?”

“Because everyone would  _ know _ !” Tim said, as if it was obvious. “My wings are fairly identifiable, and people will like Red to Tim Drake.”

“Not if Tim Drake remains wingless,” Dick shrugged.

There was a moment as Tim paused to consider this. Because it…  _ could work _ . Technically.

If Red Robin suddenly gained wings, then people would think the mantle was passed on, like what happened when Robin lost his wings in Tim’s days. And then Tim Drake could remain wingless if Tim continued to conceal them like he always did anyway.

It was… a good compromise, Tim would admit.

But it would mean the superhero community would find out. Which is where the issue lay.

“Bruce would still never trust me again, not after this,” Tim said, defeated.

“What about it?” Jason raised an eyebrow, his mouth stretching into a handsome smirk. “Ya still got Dickie and I, don’t cha?”

Tim glared. “Last time I talked to either of you out of masks was seven months ago, asshole.”

Jason and Dick faltered at that, their confident wings drooping slightly. “No, it couldn’t have been—”

“ _ Seven. Months, _ ” Tim repeated. His voice had adopted a cold tone now as his wings raised defensively. “I called you after a bad run in with Scarecrow, y’know? Maybe it was the fear gas, whatever, but I  _ called you _ . I rang  _ five times _ . And you never picked up. And then I’m scrolling through Twitter, checking what things Tim Drake has been tagged in recently— and I see a photo of your fucking  _ movie night _ . I almost died and you couldn’t pick up because you were too busy watching  _ War of the Worlds _ .”

Dick looked all pitiful and shit, and Tim felt fire rising in his throat.

“Timmy—”

“No, don’t  _ Timmy _ me! Don’t tell me I  _ still have you _ when it’s fucking bullshit and everyone  _ knows _ it.”

There was a shift in the air, a tang of bitterness that hinted towards something being  _ different _ .

Hood nodded slowly, tapping his fingers on the bench. “We fucked up, Timbo. Big time.”

“What?”

_ Because what was Jason apologising for? They let him go for a  _ **_reason_ ** _ , didn’t they? _

“We let you go too far out and didn't notice until it was too late.” Dick now.

Tim was so confused, and his head was doing that weird thing where it short circuited like an old, shitty piece of technology. 

“Wh— no, I  _ get _ why you did that. I get  _ all of that _ , it’s just— the acting as if I’m still part of the family,” said Tim.

Dick looked like he wanted to cry all of a sudden. “Timmy, that’s not acting. You  _ are _ a part of the family.”

“I know we haven’t exactly been acting like it, but nobody… nobody  _ let ya go _ . Ya drifted and we didn’t notice, but we  _ should have _ ,” Jason continued. “We fucked up.”

“I’m—” Tim couldn’t find his words. “I’m so confused right now.”

Jason and Dick shared a look. “We know—”

“Are you just doing this because you know I have wings now? I wasn’t worth it when I didn’t have them, but now I’m useful? That’s what this is, right?”

Dick look horrified at the accusation. “ _ What _ ? No— no, of  _ course _ not, Timmy! Wings don’t change anything.”

“Well they kinda do,” Jason inputted with a tilt of his head.

The older brother provided him with a glare. “They don’t change how we see  _ you _ , Tim. It’s not about you being  _ useful _ or  _ worthy _ or— or whatever else you think.”

Tim stared down at the marble counter, his hands shaking slightly. He blinked a few times as he tried to process what his brothers were saying. “I’m… still confused.”

“That’s okay,” said Dick. His eyes were wide and honest, and Tim didn’t know how to feel about it. “Actions speak louder than words, I get it. We don’t expect you to come running back straight away. We just… wanted to remind you that we love you.”

The youngest vigilante looked starstruck, and remained frozen for quite some time. He kept glancing between Dick and Jason, as if trying to find a loophole in all of it.

Nothing was making sense. The bats  _ cared _ ? They didn’t  _purposefully_ kick him out? That just didn’t add up in Tim’s mind. How could they not have noticed Damian’s constant assaults, his unanswered emergency calls, his distancing, his relocation to San Fran? The bats weren’t ignorant, so how did this slip past? How did  _ Tim  _ slip past?

“Um,” Tim managed to fumble out, slightly disorientated. He pushed himself off the stool, his wings draping down to lick at his ankles. “I’m gonna… I’m gonna go home now…”

Dick faltered slightly, pushing himself up as well. “Wait— babybird, don’t go.”

Tim looked back, his eyes wide in confusion. It was odd seeing such  _ emotion _ on his face, but he was too disorientated to keep himself in check.

“Why?” he asked.

Jason stood as well, stepping closer. He gave Dick a glance. A smirk then tugged on his lips crookedly. “How ‘bout we go for a fly?”


End file.
